


Breathe

by SandyJenkins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, M/M, PWP, Top John, erotic asphixiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyJenkins/pseuds/SandyJenkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock get it on. There's a little bit of strangling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

Sherlock looks absolutely sinful when he’s gasping for breath. This became immediately evident to John after watching the air leave his lungs in one gasp and his cheeks go red trying to regain it. A jewel thief pursued through alleys and across buildings had eventually tired of running, and instead of continuing the chase had decided to drop Sherlock with a sharp blow to the back of the head and a hard kick to his ribs. Sherlock, air gone from his lungs and head spinning from the blow, fell to the ground, arms curled around his chest and his legs wildly splayed out alongside him.  
“Alright?” John asks, catching up to Sherlock and crouching down at his side. He turns his head to face me, and it’s then that John notices it for the first time: Sherlock, friend and flatmate, looks absolutely sinful when he’s gasping for air.  
His lips are parted and wet and he flushes a dark red on the strong planes of his cheekbones as he struggles to drag in a full breath. His dark curly are wild and unruly around his face and his back arches with the effort of inflating his lungs. The sight, in it’s entirety, is so obscene, practically pornographic, really, that all thoughts of concussion and broken ribs are immediately banished from John’s mind. It takes Greg running loudly into the alley to finally snap him out of the trance and back into reality.  
“Christ Sherlock, are you alright?” He questions, dropping to his knees beside Sherlock.  
“Thief… around the corner…” Sherlock manages to choke out between laboured breaths. He makes a move to get up in pursuit of the thief, but Greg stops him, holding out an arm and keeping him down.  
“Just relax, I’ll go after him. John, why don’t you get Sherlock home? Going by the size of the bump he’s getting there on his head, he could probably use some rest.” Greg rises from his position on the ground and, after giving John a pointed look, jogs off in the direction that Sherlock had indicated.  
“Right. Home, then?” John questions, though his voice suggests that leaving the crime scene isn’t optional.  
“But John-”  
“No, Sherlock. Greg was right, that was a nasty blow. Besides, he has the situation handled here.” Sherlock frowns, but gets up and follows me back to the street. Despite Sherlock’s obvious show of disappointment at having to leave the case early, John is sure he’s made the right decision as soon as Sherlock sits down in the cab. Before the cabbie even starts driving, he puts his head in his hands and his skin get slightly ashy.  
“Head not so good, then?” John questions, a worried frown turning the corners of his mouth. They’ve had concussion nights before, and while Sherlock has had to play doctor on occasion, more often than not it’s John shaking the detective awake throughout the night. Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut and rests his forehead in his palms. John leans back in his seat and tries to replay the blow in his head, imagine what sort of damage may have been done, but the only image he can call to mind is that of Sherlock, dragging in breaths on the pavement.  
By the time the cab pulls up to the flat, Sherlock is tired and grumbling and John wants nothing more than to put him to bed and have a nice cuppa. Instead, they shuffle up the stairs and into Sherlock’s bedroom. After pulling back the sheets and depositing Sherlock in the bed, John runs to the bathroom to grab a couple ibuprofen and a glass of water.  
“Take these, and I’ll go get some ice for your head.” It’s a testament to how much his head must be hurting, John thinks, that he doesn’t fight him over the meds. Sherlock pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them down with the glass of water. When John returns a few minutes later with the ice, he is already asleep, head tilted carefully on the pillow. John sighs, setting the ice down on his nightstand. He pulls a chair next to Sherlock, and gets settled for the long night to come. As he falls asleep, he finds his mind drifting into familiar territory; the currently unoccupied side of the bed, and what it might feel like to sleep there curled around Sherlock.  
The next morning, John is shaken awake by a shifting under his head. He slowly turns to the side, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As soon as he opens them fully to look at his surroundings, he his shocked into awareness. His head is resting on Sherlock’s chest, and one hand is clenching the fabric of Sherlock’s shirt. The other hand, in a decidedly more bold move, is resting on the curve of Sherlock’s hipbone. The most troubling aspect of his current position, though, is either the erection pressed against his arm, or the sharp, blue eyes staring at them.  
“Ah, shit!” John leaps up from his chair and back several feet from the bed, “You could’ve woken me! I would’ve preferred that to being greeted by-” he gestures at Sherlock’s body, “this!”  
“Well, after yesterday, it seemed to me that you wouldn’t mind being woken up by ‘this.’”  
“After yesterday? Sherlock, what the hell are you talking about? Is your concussion worse than I thought?”  
“Yesterday. You were attracted to me. More specifically, your pupils dilated. Your pulse increased. And your trousers were undeniably tighter.” Sherlock’s eyes swept over John’s body as he listed his evidence. John’s mind short circuited- had he really been that obvious about his attraction?  
“Adrenaline,” John says quietly, “All of that could be explained by the excitement of the chase.”  
“Yes, I suppose,” Sherlock gets up from his position on the bed and walks towards John, “had you not become aroused at the exact moment that I was on the ground,” Sherlock pushes closer to John, forcing his back against the wall, “gasping.”  
Sherlock, sensing it was time for him to act, pushed John harder against the wall and fitted their mouths together. John, after a few seconds of shock and non-responsiveness, grabbed Sherlock’s arms and spun him around so that he was now pressed against the wall. And, finally, miracle of all miracles, Sherlock grasped John’s wrists and guided his hands away from his hips and up to his neck.  
“Oh,” John gasped against Sherlock’s mouth, breaking the kiss, “are you sure?” Sherlock answered by wrapping his hands around the outside of John’s and tightening them around his neck. John groaned and tightened his hands in Sherlock’s grip.  
“The bed, perhaps?” Sherlock murmured. John nodded against his neck and pulled away from Sherlock. He quickly pulled his jumper over his head and undid the buttons on his jeans. He and Sherlock began kissing with renewed fervor and soon as they hit the bed. John moved down across Sherlock’s jaw, stopping to suck at the junction of his jawline and neck.  
“John,” Sherlock groaned softly, “Don’t stop.”  
“Wasn’t planning on it,” John said, continuing his path down Sherlock’s neck, and leaving a trail of bright red bite marks. When he reached Sherlock’s nipples, he stopped and tentatively put his hands back around Sherlock’s neck.  
“Is this still okay?” He asked.  
“Yes John, please, just keep going,” Sherlock moaned.  
John turned his attention back to Sherlock’s chest, tonguing his nipples and drawing out louder and increasingly high pitched moans from Sherlock. As Sherlock seemed to grow more frantic, John slowly tightened his grip on Sherlock’s neck.  
“Oh!” Sherlock whimpered, canting his hips against John, “more!” John groaned as Sherlock thrust against him again. John moved up Sherlock’s body and kissed him sweetly on the mouth. He could feel Sherlock beginning to gasp against his lips.  
“Take of your pants for me,” he whispered in Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock’s hands shot down below his waist and he quickly divested himself of his pants. His cock was already leaking and the head bobbed hear his stomach.  
“Eager, aren’t we?” John teased, reaching down to stroke Sherlock’s prick. Sherlock immediately curled into him, pressing his forehead against John’s.  
“I want you inside me,” Sherlock said, leaning further into John so that he could rest against his shoulder.  
“I-Christ, are you sure?” In response, Sherlock shifted his hips and ground his arse against the front of John’s pants.  
“Lube is in the bottom drawer to the left.”  
“What about condoms?”  
“Seeing as we’re both clean, I don’t know why condoms would be a necessity.”  
“How do you know- you know what, nevermind. I’ll take your word for it.” John got up and quickly got the lube out from the drawer- half empty, he noticed with a smirk.  
“Pants off, back in bed now,” Sherlock called from the bed. John shucked off his pants and crawled back on top of Sherlock, pressing a few soft kisses against his temple, and then sitting back.  
“Spread your legs and put your feet flat against the mattress.”  
Sherlock complied wordlessly, folding his hands against his chest and looking expectantly at John, who was now slicking his first two fingers with the lube.  
He slid them across Sherlock’s perineum, and down to his hole, lightly rubbing circles around his rim. After a few passes, Sherlock’s opening began to flutter under John’s fingertips. Swirling his fingers around once more, John pressed the tip of his index finger into Sherlock’s hole. The detective let out a sharp exhale at the intrusion, then pressed his arm over his eyes.  
“Still doing okay?” John asked, pressing his finger in farther and rubbing Sherlock’s thigh with the other.  
“I’m not a virgin, you know. I can take more.” John pulled out his finger, putting more lube over the others, and pressed two back into Sherlock. When he scissors his fingers, Sherlock moans.  
“I’m ready John, just get on with it,” he says, clenching his hand in the sheets.  
“Your wish,” John says, pulling his fingers out of Sherlock and reaching back for the lube, “turn over.” Sherlock complies, rolling onto his stomach and getting onto his hands and knees. John pours the lube into his palm, rubbing it until he deems it warm enough and spreads it over his cock. He groans at the contact and lines himself up at Sherlock’s entrance, passing the head of his cock over the now loosened pucker.  
“Baby, I hope you’re ready, because I’m going to ruin you.” He presses forward, the head of his cock meeting some resistance, but then finally, perfectly sliding all the way in. As John bottoms out, they both moan loudly, Sherlock’s back bowing at the sudden rush of pleasure and pain.  
“Shit, Sherlock, you’re so tight,” John groans, pushing his face into Sherlock’s back and running his hands down Sherlock’s sides, “let me know when I can move.”  
“I’m going to need a moment,” Sherlock says, rolling his hips slowly to adjust to the feeling of John inside him. John muffles a moan between Sherlock’s shoulder blades when Sherlock shifts, allowing his cock to slide even deeper into Sherlock.  
“I’m ready. You can move,” Sherlock says in a shaky voice. John’s cock twitches at how wrecked Sherlock’s voice sounds already. He moves his hips back slowly, drawing his cock out until only the head is still inside of Sherlock, then snaps them forward hard. He gives a few more slow, hard thrusts, enjoying the low moans that leave Sherlock’s throat every time he hits home. He starts to pick up his speed, Sherlock’s moans increasing in pitch and frequency until they is a constant stream of noise leaving his mouth.  
“Ah, ah, ah, John!” Sherlock cries out as John find his prostate. John. encouraged by Sherlock’s obvious pleasure, reaches his arms around so that his hands can close around Sherlock’s neck.  
“Do you like this? The feeling of my hands around your neck and my cock in your arse?” John growls in Sherlock’s ear, tightening his grip slightly.  
“Yes!” Sherlock cries out, clenching hard around John when the grip around his neck tightens. As the sensation builds, Sherlock shifts his weight onto one arm and snakes the other one under his body to frantically stroke his cock. John quickens the pace of his thrusts and tightens his grip around Sherlock’s neck until he hears him wheezing. Sherlock’s his start to roll frantically and John can feel his own orgasm building in the base of his spine. Sherlock has long since stopped groaning, now only able to suck in small, short breaths and exhale sharply.  
“Come for me Sherlock, come on,” John says, feeling his own orgasm build and spread through his body. At John’s words, Sherlock’s whole body jolts, and his hole clenches and flutters around John. John buries himself deep in Sherlock and comes hard, spilling into Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock’s shaking arms finally give out and he falls face first into the pillows, John landing on his back. John shudders through the final pulses of his orgasm, and then pulls his softening cock out of Sherlock’s still spasming hole. His spunk trickles out of Sherlock while he shakes through the last pulses of his orgasm.  
“Jesus, Sherlock, are you alright? I didn’t mean to do that, it just sort of happened. I’m so sorry, it was-”  
“It was perfect,” Sherlock voice rasping in his throat, “didn’t I make it fairly obvious that I was enjoying myself?”  
“Yeah, I suppose so. Sorry about your voice, though I guess now I know how I can get you to shut up.” John smirked and pulled Sherlock back against his chest. He reached around for his boxers, pulling them up and halfheartedly cleaning the mess off of Sherlock.  
“Really, though, that was quite fantastic,” he said, running his hands through Sherlock’s hair. He could feel Sherlock’s breaths evening out and slowing down, and felt himself growing more tired. As he drifted into sleep, arms tight around Sherlock’s waist, he heard Sherlock’s hoarse voice.  
“Next time, we’ll use the riding crop.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
